


Enchanté

by wavesketcher



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavesketcher/pseuds/wavesketcher
Summary: "Well," she straightens, and her lips stretch into a smile, dangerous, "I suggest you finish your… scotch… and be on your way." Regina turns on her heel and he's furious, aroused, sure, but furious. Damon feels the familiar scratch of veins under his skin, the impulse to retaliate. "And what if I want to stay a while?"*The one where Regina Mills meets Damon Salvatore.*





	Enchanté

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea for a few weeks now. These two characters are my absolute favourites: bad-ass, witty, seductive and so lovable argh. Enjoy!

It is a Monday morning and Regina Mills needs coffee. The council paper work would be insurmountable to most but she is a skilled administrator, thriving under pressure and the throb of her gold tipped fountain pen… the magic helps too, naturally. Nevertheless, without coffee, she barely feels human, let alone an evil queen ( _former_ , as everyone is so intent on reminding her).

“Usual, Madame Mayor?”

She smiles tightly. “Yes, thank you, Ruby.”

The brunette leaps into action, spinning from the counter, and leaving Regina to scan the diner. She taps her nails, blood red because old habits die hard, and brushes over every zombified regular with an affected aloofness. _Business as usual._

Henry throws open the door in delight, beaming at his mother who cannot help but beam right back at him, the smile reaching into her eyes and around her heart. His scarf is hung wonkily over his neck and he looks so adorable she reaches forward to give him a kiss.

“Mom,” he laughs, squirming away from her advances.

Regina smooths his hair. “I’ll get you a drink and no, you’re not having a hot chocolate at nine am. Orange juice, that’s all.”

“Finnneeeeee. Can I go sit down?”

She nods and he darts away, twelve years old and her greatest gift.

Ruby places the coffee on the counter. “There ya go,” she hesitates and Regina’s brow creases. “Who’s that man Henry’s talking to?”

“What?” Regina pivots to follow Ruby’s gaze and sure enough, her son is standing the window table, talking a man she’s never seen before. It unnerves her instantly.

“He’s _really_ hot, I mean w-” The waitress’s drool is cut short by the Mayor’s glare.

Dress smoothed and jaw clenched, Regina marches over.

* * *

The kid is like a _fucking detective_ : stripy scarf and narrowed eyes, yapping on and on. Damon folds his newspaper – The Storybrooke Daily Mirror – and regards the boy with a sigh.

“Look, I just want to sit here and have drink,” he waves his Bourbon for emphasis, “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“But who _are_ you and why haven’t I ever seen you before?”

“I told you, my name is Damon and you haven’t seen me because I have _literally_ just arrived.”

“In Storybrooke?”

“Yes, in _Storybrooke_. What kind of name is that anyway?”

The boy opens his mouth to respond, unsatisfied by Damon’s answers, _clearly_ , but a manicured hand on his shoulder makes him stop.

“Henry, can you go and sit down please.”

Damon lifts an eyebrow. _Why,_ _hello._ She’s older than him or, at least, older than his human age, and wearing a tight red dress. The word MILF comes to mind.

“But Mom-”

“Now.”

Her tone is sharp, commanding, and Damon’s mouth twitches. He went on this road trip to escape from women (namely Elena Gilbert and all her confusing feelings) and here he is puffing his chest, ready to flirt with her. If there was one thing Damon Salvatore is a master of, it is seduction. _Even at nine in the fucking morning._

“Is something amusing?”

Damon folds his arms behind his head. “A little.”

The woman’s gaze flares and _this going to be fun_.

“What’s your name?”

The vampire flashes his most charming smile. “Damon Salvatore. _Enchanté.”_

“You’re not from Storybrooke are you?”

“ _Wow_ this place really doesn’t take well to tourists does it?”

She purses her lips, studying him so slowly it burns. “I get the impression you think you’re funny, Mr Salvatore.”

_Mr Salvatore. That’s hot._

“Funny, charming, sexy, good in bed. All things I’ve been told.” He waits for the blush, the one that always accompanies his arrogance – a red hue tinging the cheeks of the lucky women he’s picked for conquest.

But this one just laughs… and it’s _icy_. “Hm. I’m mistaken. Maybe you _are_ a comedian.”

Damon blinks. The woman puts her hands on the table and leans towards him; his eyes flicker to the suggestive keyhole of cleavage that fragments her dress. “Where are you from?”

She sounds _dangerous_.

“Mystic Falls, Virginia.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’ve been on the road for a while,” he jerks his thumb out the window, the woman scans his Camaro with intrigue, “Needed a pit stop.” All true. The blood bags are in short supply.

“Well,” she straightens, and her dark lips stretch into a smile (again, dangerous), “I suggest you finish your… scotch… and be on your way.”

She turns on her heel and he’s furious, aroused, sure, but furious. Damon feels the familiar scratch of veins under his skin, the impulse to retaliate threatening the monster. “And what if I want to stay a while?”

The woman stops but doesn’t turn around. Her hands are in fists and he’s sure he just saw a purple spark erupt from her fingers. _Intriguing._ He’s always had a thing for witches.

“That wouldn’t be in your best interest.”

He treads a little more carefully. _If she is a witch, I’d rather go without a brain aneurysm._ “Maybe not but I like to live life on the edge.” He waits for her to turn, expose the rage in her stare. His blood pulses, wanting, but the woman resumes walking, sliding into the booth, her back to his frustration. Henry gives him a smug smile. _The brat._

A pretty waitress hurries over with a notebook and pen, asking if he wants to order anything else, maybe some breakfast? A coffee?

“Ruby,” Damon says, reading her label, “Who is that woman?”

“Oh, right um. That’s… that’s Regina Mills. The Mayor.”

_Lovely._

* * *

Regina scowls. She’s been reading this contract for a good fifteen minutes and has barely got past the second paragraph. Damon Salvatore has got under her skin and it’s _extremely_ inconvenient. Those stupidly blue eyes and that smirk? He is a bad boy, probably not even thirty, mysterious, arrogant and nothing like Daniel or Robin or… anyone, and yet; here she is, flustered.

He has some kind of power, _that_ she could feel. It wasn’t magic, as such, different, intoxicating. He looked at Regina like she was a challenge and she’d be lying if she said it hadn’t set her alight a little.

The phone rings and she jumps, jolted out of her thought. “Emma, if this is about your mother’s-”

“Emma? Pretty name but I _bet_ she’s not as pretty as you.”

Regina almost slams the receiver down. ‘Almost’ being the operative word. “Mr Salvatore, I thought I told you to leave.”

 “Please,” the voice on the other end drawls, “Call me Damon.”

“Hopefully, I won’t have to call you anything soon.”

“The hostility. Ouch.”

She rolls her eyes and drums her pen on the page. “Why are you calling me… Damon.”

There’s a pause on the other end before, “Can I come up?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Too late.”

And her doors open and he saunters in, cell phone hovering by his ear, and that stupid smirk cutting up half his face. Regina stands. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

Damon winks, “Having a meeting with the Mayor.”

“This isn’t following protocol. People don’t just waltz in to have ‘meetings’,” she curls her lip, “Especially not _visitors_.”

“Ah, there it is again. No tourists, blah blah blah. It’s a strange policy for a town.”

He’s walking around the office, touching objects then glancing at her to catch a reaction. Regina seethes, every part of her aching to show this insatiable man who he’s dealing with. Blast him with magic, turn him into a toad so she won’t have to look at those infuriatingly blue eyes.

“You’ve been here merely three hours and you’re claiming to understand this town. Again, I will ask nicely. Please le-”

“You know, Miss Mayor Pants, I wouldn’t really say the last time was _nice_. Seemed a bit threatening to me.”

She has two options: she can magic him or she can call Emma. The latter is definitely less incriminating. The less the rest of America knows about their strange fairy-tale town, the better.

As Damon continues to inspect the room, picking up ornaments or pausing to sniff flowers, she retrieves her phone and types:

_Strange man in office. About to evil queen him so hurry._

Said strange man turns to regard her. “Who are you texting?”

Regina squares her shoulders. “The Sheriff.”

“Yay! I love Sheriffs.” He grins at her, evidently amused, and Regina’s convinced he’s a psychopath. Ruby’s right, he’s very… striking, but psycho. _God forbid, anyone normal show an interest in her._

“Well, then I’m sure you’ll like the Storybrooke jail.”

There’s a blink and he’s on her, his hand curled around her neck. It doesn’t hurt, he hasn’t applied enough pressure for it to hurt but she stiffens, her magic building.

Damon grins, “I can hear your heartbeat, Madame Mayor. And,” he inhales, his eyes widening in delight, “I can taste _that_.”

Regina wills the purple haze to stay hidden in her fists but the rage, the humiliation at being attacked in her own town, her own office when she’s queen and –

“Stop trying to fight it. Come on, blast me backwards, witchy juju me. I know you’re-”

“LET GO OF HER!”

Emma comes raging in, guns blazing _(literally_ ), as always. And Damon sighs as if the interruption is more predictable than anything else. He throws his palms in the air. “Alright, alright, I’m off. No need to be so dramatic about it, _gosh_.”

“Regina, are you alright?”

She nods tightly, her eyes fixed on the man… sorcerer? He moved too fast to be natural, that’s for certain. Not to mention, he could _sense_ her magic. Peace never settles in Storybrooke for long and if this _Damon Salvatore_ is to be their next adversary, she’s going to need to set some personal boundaries. Arousal being one of them.

Damon stretches and smiles at the blonde who looks utterly perplexed, bless her, gun hanging lamely in the air. “Badass Sheriff, nice.”

“Step back,” Emma snaps but she’s weary, looking at Regina for confirmation. _Who is this dude?_ _Why is he in your office?_ Questions she herself can’t answer.

“Great to see a responsive police force, really, but I don’t want any trouble. I was just on my way to the hospital actually.”

Emma tightens around her gun, “You’re not going anywhere until you start talking.”

Damon runs a hand through his hair, “Sheriffs… They either ruin your fun or they _are_ your fun, right Reggie?”

And then he moves, suddenly, like before, his hand lowering the weapon as he crowds Emma’s stare. “You’re going to let me go. In fact, you’re going to give me a ride to the hospital. No questions asked.”

Regina stills. Emma is impulsive, an idiot, sure, but impulsive and she doesn’t take lightly to being told what to do. Her magic simmers; she wonders if the blonde’s will do more.

But… Emma just smiles. “Sure, I can drive you to the hospital.”

* * *

Damon yanks open the freezer. Regina thoroughly disappointed him and he’s _thirsty_. He grabs an A Positive, his personal favourite, and pours the contents down his throat, revelling in the metallic sting. Compelling the Sheriff had been too easy. He’d given the sexy Mayor a thousand chances, provoking, prodding, teasing, calling her nicknames (she really seemed like a woman that _hated_ nicknames) and still… nothing, nada, ‘I’m going to call the Sheriff rather than witch you up.’

The door pulls open and Damon rolls his eyes. He thought he’d compelled every damn nurse and doctor in this insipid town.

“You’re drinking blood.”

_Oh… now this is more like it._

He spins to face her, his mouth stained – the same colour as that _delicious_ dress. “Yup, you got me. I’m a vampire.” He imitates a crowd booing, half hoping to see a crack in the Mayor’s steely exterior. Instead he just gets shock.

“A… vampire?”

“Okay, we can drop the act _Regina_. I know you’re a witch, you know I’m a vampire. We’re mortal enemies but secretly there’s just _a lot_ of sexual tension.”

The Mayor seems to be processing something - him. “Vampires don’t exist. They’re not in the Enchanted Forest or…”

Damon frowns. “Look, I don’t know anything about the ‘Enchanted Forest’, which literally sounds straight out of a fairy tale, but in Mystic Falls, there are a hell of a lot of vampires. And witches. You should visit.”

He reaches into the freezer for another bag and is just about to start squeezing the liquid into his mouth when it disappears. Just like that. Damon blinks. “Huh, Bonnie hasn’t quite mastered that one yet.”

“Stop. Talking.”

The vampire looks up from his magicked away dinner and _woah, that’s new._ Regina’s lip is literally quivering with rage and in her hands are two _actual_ fireballs, and he feels like he’s in Pokémon or something.

“You’ve done enough talking.” Damon’s breath hitches as she stalks towards him, her pupils catching the fireballs and dancing with the flame. She looks him up and down, it drags across his whole body and he shivers. “You know what they call me back in the Enchanted Forest, Da-mon?” He doesn’t move, he can’t move, he’s near spellbound and honestly, it’s _fucking incredible_. She pushes her mouth to the shell of his ear, her words curling in a whisper. “The Evil Queen.”

He animates, his eyes pooling black, his skin thrumming with blood and hunger and his teeth lengthen, the monster, desire, possessing his features in an instant. Regina lifts a nail, tracing the veins with the tip as she breathes, “I’m not afraid of you, vampire. I’m not afraid of anything.”

His gaze drops, entranced by her lips, and _she has a scar_ , on the left, that he desperately wants to kiss – _needs_ too. Damon bends, a breath away from hers. He inhales magic, heartbeat, and her chest heaves because she wants it too, he’s certain, their collision.

Regina parts her lips to speak again, “Funny. I too have been told I’m charming and sexy and,” she laughs, it’s rich and evil and he’s completely convinced she’s a Disney villain and that he could _very_ easily fall in love with her.

She closes the distance, Damon closes his eyes, there’s a click and he’s sitting in the driver’s seat of his Camaro, coughing on the remnants of purple smoke.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are very, very much encouraged.


End file.
